In Reality
by Hasane-chan
Summary: ...normal wasn't normal. Al and his family made that very clear.
1. meet

I stared intently at the glowing light of the screen on my phone, completely disregarding my surroundings. They were of no matter to me, not when I was reading a fanfiction. Another Harry Potter one, as usual. As if I read anything else.

"… _largely deserted—no one else would bother getting up for another few hours. Not only was it early on a Saturday morning, but it was early on a Saturday morning…"_

I was on the sixth chapter of the fanfiction, but I was considering giving it up; it wasn't at all like I expected it to be. I honestly thought the character would be more soft-spoken, and not anything like the spitfire she actually was. Spitfire characters were good, but they were overused, and their dispositions were nearly the same every single time. They were just another copy of Ginny Weasley, one could say. It was like authors think that spitfire characters were the only characters worthy of the infamous Potter boys: James and Al Potter. Or Lily too, but slash fanfictions on HPFF weren't something you often find, unfortunately. Or on fanfiction dot net. Usually, Lily _was_ the spitfire, although most definitely not for her brothers. That was kind of gross.

I went back to reading anyways. Or, was about to. A good shake to the shoulder had diverted my attention.

I turned my head. Behind me was my short brown-haired friend, wearing her signature blue tie and her low ponytail. She had a crooked smile on her as always.

"Hey, Hansa," she said, sitting beside me and starting to eat her lunch. Nodding towards my phone, she commented, "Reading fanfiction again?"

"Did you expect anything else, Maya?" I asked rhetorically, mirroring her smile. "By the way, everybody already left, and it's time to go to class again," I informed her in fake hurt, playing with her. She knew this.

Her smile still morphed into an apologetic one, however. "Sorry, I just really have to practice for that one really hard piece that I'm performing this Saturday. I often don't have time after school to practice with all the homework assigned. Its hard work you know?"

"Ah," I said in an understanding tone, "I feel you." I saw her starting to pack her lunch up again, despite the fact she had just begun eating.

"How can you?" she joked, poking fun at her innocence. She really was quite innocent, you know, and after meeting me, she became aware of this. She used technology minimally, and she knew nothing about the world of memes, fanfiction, Tumblr, and all of that other Internet-y goodness. And to this I say a resolute 'good.' Memes (and others included) were black holes that suck you in. It was so fun referencing a meme to her every once in a while though. Seeing the perplexed look on her face was just too good to pass up.

I laughed. "No, I suppose you can't. Come on, we have to go to Psychology now, Miss Taylor will get mad at us."

Maya nodded. I packed my things up, putting my lunch and books back in my bag.

I walked towards the Performing Arts hallway, and Maya followed. It wasn't a long walk, but by the time we had gotten there, everybody had already been seated. A mark of our lateness, but oh well, I'm not too bothered.

We went to our respective seats, which were close to each other.

Miss Taylor got up and walked to the front of the room, gathering every student's attention. She smiled a friendly smile at us.

"Hello class!" she said in chirpy kind of way, but not enough to grate on your nerves. She got straight to her point. "First: a recap of what we learned yesterday. Who can tell me?"

Maya feebly tried to raise her hand, but then put it back down. Poor thing, she really needed to get over her shyness. The room stayed silent, nobody willing to give an answer.

Miss Taylor sighed in exasperation. "Come on you guys, I know all of you remember. Do you want me to start calling up people, like some kind of Hunger Games?"

This elicited a murmur of laughs from the classroom of students.

I raised my hand, and Miss Taylor directed her attention to me. "Miss Singh?"

I coughed a small cough to clear up my throat. I said in a quiet but clear voice, "Sigmund Freud. We learned about his Psychoanalytic theory, which consists of the id, the superego, and the ego. The id lives in the unconscious, as does the superego. The id is an aggressive psychic force, demanding for its desires to be gratified, no matter how unreasonable. The superego is built upon morals and fights the id, wanting gratification as well. The ego is pulled by the two, like some kind of tug of war, and tries to achieve what the both want in realistic ways. But as a result of this, the ego is extremely fragile."

Miss Taylor nodded thoughtfully. "I'll take it. As Miss Singh said…" And she went off on one of her tangents, and my mind wandered off.

I thought about what I'll do when I get home, which was probably do my homework for a good while, and then get caught up reading fanfiction. What can I say? It was one of my guilty pleasures, although all my friends knew this. It was really fun to get lost in a world made within a world, especially if they were alternate universes. They were very engaging, you know? I also think reading an excess of fanfiction was what gave me my amazing grammar skills (if I may say so), and gave me the push to start writing this year. Nothing too ambitious for now though; I've still yet to learn the ways of writing properly.

The world of fanfiction was great, but you can find some… questionable things there too. I've come across sexual fanfictions more times than I would have liked. And a few furry fanfictions, but I don't like to talk about that.

And another thing—"Class! I hope you have taken the Humanmetrics Jung test for personality?"

"Yes, Miss Taylor," the class chorused.

"Great! I'm going to call out the all of the personalities and all of you will group up according to your temperaments. I will tell you this," Miss Taylor said. She searched for something on her desk and then began. After she had called everybody (I'm an INFP, if you were wondering), we had been given sheets with information about our personality. But instead of reading about my personality, I was more intrigued by the black haired boy sitting next to me. He seemed to be absentmindedly taking his surroundings in, learning everything about it.

I was staring at him unabashedly, and I knew it. I made no move to stop though.

Soon enough, his wandering eyes (which were surprisingly a nice shade of emerald; I had always thought that most green eyed boys and girls existed in young adult novels) moved to me, and he seemed a bit surprised to find me staring at him. He raised one of his eyebrows in question. I had enough sense to snap out of it and introduce myself.

"Hi," I said, giving what I hoped was a disarming smile. I held my hand out to him. "I'm Hansika Singh. And you are?"

He eyed my hand warily, but eventually he took it. "I'm Al," he said, offering up no last name, or anything of the sort. I blinked at that, but paid it no mind.

"It's nice to meet you," I said to him. "Are you new here?"

He nodded. "Transfer student."

"Oh?" I said, slightly puzzled. "But you have a British accent?"

"Oh, er…" He trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say.

I immediately went to rectify myself. "That's fine, though. I once had a friend who had a British accent, but she wasn't from Britain, and neither were her parents. Apparently, they wanted their child to have a British accent, so they spoke in one until she was seven."

I was nervous, alright? And when I'm nervous, I tended to ramble, and my mouth got a life of its own. I mostly spew out nonsensical stories, not deep, dark secrets of mine or anything, so that was one upside to it. Best of all, they weren't even real. The one I just said was from a post I saw on Tumblr. How cool am I? In case you didn't know, not very.

Al gave me a strange look, probably thinking that I was hit on the head when I was a baby. It was likely, and it would explain all of my blunders, mishaps, and the straight up stupid things I've done.

"So," I said, forcing out a rather pathetic and unconvincing laugh, "since you're a transfer student, I assume you don't know your way around here?"

"I know my way around a little bit. I know the essentials, like where my classes are, the courtyard, etcetera, etcetera," he said, likely to be trying to keep his answers short and simple.

"Oh, okay, that's good," I said.

Al shot a brief smile at me, and went back to reading. But I didn't really want to be alone with my thoughts, so I asked, "So, what personality type are you?"

His head looked back up at me, wary once again. He seemed to be determined to get through this year without having to talk to anybody. Well, I've got another thing coming for you, buddy o' pal. I am literally the most talkative person ever if I liked you, and well, it seemed I liked you, Al. Get used to it. Or push me away, that worked too, but that'll most likely end up with me having a decade long grudge on you. I'm persistent and stubborn.

He let out an inaudible sigh (well, maybe not so much if I heard it) and answered, "INTJ."

"Oh, the Mastermind. Very ambitious and have the ability to be a leader, although won't willingly take the position," I said, nodding approvingly. "Rare to find as well."

"Really?" Al asked absentmindedly, reading the articles about the personalities.

I nodded, but then I slap myself; he wasn't looking at me. And then it was my turn to sigh inaudibly. I didn't bother to relay my answer to him, and I busied myself with reading up my type for the next few minutes, after which we'll go to the next class.

The teacher dismissed us soon enough and I head off to my next class. The end of the day couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

The end of the day did come, but not as soon as I'd like. It seemed I forgot about the Interior Design meeting I had at the end of the day. It was fun, but it got boring really quick; we mostly just talked about what we had planned for the future.

My sister had picked me up, and we drove while listening to some type of bhangra music. My sister seemed to love it, as she had sung along to it every minute of the way. It's a good thing that two voices singing together create harmony, and not discord. I would have died from the ear splitting sound.

We arrived home, and I got out of the car, getting my things from the back. Immediately, a familiar face caught my eye. Except this time, he was with two other people. I would think that they were friends of some sort, but their shocking similarity to each other makes me think otherwise. The older boy sitting next to Al has the same hair as him, and the short girl sitting next to him has the same face structure… or something like that. I never claimed to be accurate in my observations.

Al looked to me from where he was sitting, and waved to me, and I waved shyly back. He went back to talking to his friends. Or siblings. I honestly think he was discretely talking about me, the girl who attempted to talk to him, despite the obvious signs that he didn't want to. Boy have I made mistakes today. Oh well.

I enter into my home that is strangely quiet, a sign that my parents aren't home. Thank god for that. My mother was likely to be at one of her friends' house and my father was probably still at work. I can do my homework in peace, without having my mother yell at me, or about what I need to be doing with my 'dead end' life.

I started on my homework, which took me five hours, partly credited to the fact that I took every chance to procrastinate in between. I whipped out my school library book, Gemini by Sonya Mukherjee. Some people actually might be surprised by this fact; they assumed that I am not an avid reader simply because I don't hold a physical book in my hands. Fanfictions _we_ _re_ stories; just not the conventional ones that people normally perceived.

The book itself was okay. Not too exciting though. When I first had read it, I thought it was an interesting choice of plot and premise, and I was easily ensnared. But I made the mistake of reading the reviews for this book, most of which say that it was just another high school drama, and now I can only see through those glasses and _boy_ did it suck. But I refused to put the book down, because if I left it unfinished, the book would haunt me in my dreams. You think I'm crazy, but it had happened before. Never again.

And besides, a story was a story, and it was an escape from reality no matter how poorly written. It offered up a temporary reprieve and for that I am grateful. They were engaging when you had a visual mind like mine. I started to picture myself as the main character, and suddenly I was in their bodies, feeling what they were feeling, doing what they were doing.

I wish the fictional reality of books were real, especially the reality of Harry Potter's. It was so hard being a sixteen year old, but not even have accomplishing a fourth of what the main characters in these books have. It was discouraging and it brought you down big time. I can only gratify myself by living vicariously through these characters, but never anything more than that.

A sad thought, no?

* * *

 ** _The Hunger Games_** **belongs to Suzanne Collins, and I do not own** ** _Tumblr_** **either. That one's owned by Yahoo! The post I** **referring to was by** ** _theqmmunity,_** **previously** ** _thelesbianguide,_** **on Tumblr.**


	2. off their rockers

I waited for the bus, standing idly next to the streetlight, listening to obscure remixes I don't care to learn the names of. The bus arrives promptly on time, and I', the first to get on, snagging the seventh seat on the left. It was rather picky of me, but it just goes to show how much I hated giving up routine.

Not long passed before we—as in the other sleep deprived students—arrived at the monotone colored school, and I walked briskly towards History, a subject I despised, mostly because of the tedious and longwinded essays we wrote each and every week without fail. And yet, I still took it because I needed the credit. Dumb school requirements. Or rather, dumb me, who didn't know when—or how for that matter—to stop.

The bell rung, and class started with lectures and note-taking.

My mind immediately wandered off into a dark and endless abyss of thoughts, reaching in and pulling out a book by the name of _Dear Killer_.

That was an honestly strange choice I had chosen at the local bookstore. It was like, two quid, and on clearance, so why not right? I read it for mostly indulgence purposes, as I had never read a book from a psychopath's point of view. It had interesting thoughts and questionable morals and so much flowery language, and it practically shoved it in your face.

You don't know how many times I've reproduced the same scenes in my mind with different fictional characters. But mostly, I stick with alternating between various Harry Potter next generation characters. I find myself doing this often with Rose Weasley. Or Al Potter. I have a mind that often prefered fantasies and unrealistic situations and wandering to strange places over the cold hard slap that was known as reality. It really was too bad for me because it was a whole set up for disappointment.

* * *

After time dragging itself out for _years_ , Fashion finally arrived and I sighed in relief. My morning classes were always the ones that tired me out, and the afternoon ones are easier to cope with.

I set my stuff down on the floor and grab my half-finished dress off the hangers that are off to the side. I began to seam ripping some of my messed up seams, reinforced a few stitches, pinned it on to the mannequin, that kind of stuff. Before I know it, the time has passed, and the bell had dismissed everyone for lunch. All the same, I still lagged behind, mostly due to the fact I got so caught up in sewing that I always end up cleaning my workstation in the very last few seconds before the bell rings.

As soon as I walk out, I was hit with stifling humidity, surely the result of a quick rain shower followed by immediate sunshine. I groaned internally; the humidity made my hair look like I was electrocuted, and overall, I looked like some American 1970's decades popstar. It was cool and all, but it looked out of place when you're not dressed to look like one.

I walked over to my usual table, where the dark haired twins, Henry and Alex, were already sitting.

Setting my stuff down, I greeted Alex with a quiet hello, and Henry with, "So, how did you do on your essay for History?"

He looked up from eating his food, and replied, "Pretty good. I got like a six out of seven, and that brought my test grade up from a seventy-nine to an eighty-eight. Saved my ass there, didn't it?"

I smiled at him. "That's great Henry! These essays are a pain in the ass, but they seem to be saving quite literally everyone from failing world history."

"Yeah," he replied enthusiastically, "they are, aren't they? Never would have expected that out of something that every student dreads."

"Yeah," I said, not too keen on continuing a dwindling conversation. I quieted easily, and pulled out my phone from my bag.

It was a new one this time; I sped through fanfictions, without ever really paying attention to detail. It was a tic of mine, and I'd have to read it all over again; although, I don't really mind, if they were worthy of being reread. Lucky for me, most were. Fanfiction authors, it seemed, were the pinnacle of the scope of authors available.

This particular one was called _etc. etc. (and life goes on)_.

It was amazing writing—a style I one day hope to achieve the greatness of—but I was not so easily warming up to the main narrator of the story. Her confidence seemed faked, and underlying her exterior would be many problems, which she most likely will discover and find difficulties with. She also seemed like a selfish person in general (which was okay, but there was a line where you needed to stop).

Clemence was definitely a pretty name though, and I would have to look into its etymology later.

Before I knew it, Henry and Alex were waving to goodbye to me, and soon enough only Marcus was left. But he was waving to me goodbye to me as well.

"Bye," Marcus said. "Have fun reading your fanfiction!"

"Yeah, definitely," I replied enthusiastically.

"You mean I was right? Damn it, what's up with people being obsessed with anime and fanfiction?"

"Honey, I am a complete and total weeb, like, 24/7," I informed him matter-of-factly.

"Seven! And there's the obsession with seven!" Marcus exclaimed. He walked away muttering 'people these days' and 'I swear my girlfriend's the only sane one here.'

I shook my head despairingly, and went back to reading. Or I would have if I didn't feel the table shifting from the weight of someone sitting down.

Instinctively, I looked up and said, "Hey, Maya." But my eyes did not meet the brown ones of Maya, but rather the green ones of Al. He looked slightly out of place here, sitting with me.

Wearing an expression between discontented and apologetic, he said, "Sorry, but you're the only one who I know vaguely. You're the only person I talked to yesterday."

I tried not to look disgruntled, but I failed. I was extremely surprised as well, considering my 'advances' yesterday weren't well received. Nonetheless I told him, "Yeah, no, it's fine, you can sit here."

He shot me a grateful look, and started slowly eating his food, which was more like he was picking at it. Understandable. The school food was average at best.

I went back to reading on my phone, but not a second later, Al suddenly said, "Hey."

I threw him an inquisitive look.

"I'm… I'm sorry about yesterday. It was just that… It was just that I was extremely stressed by the new school, and getting used to the wind of things. Coming in the middle of the year kind of means you have to be on the roll and catch up quickly," Al said by way of explanation. It seemed to me like he was trying to work up the courage to talk to me.

I decided to humor him and smiled sympathetically. "I guess I kind of understand. It happened with me when I moved here a couple of years back. It was highly stressful for me too, and it happens periodically at the beginning of each school year. You know, figuring out who your teachers are, what kind of hard classes you're in for."

Al tilted his head slightly in curiosity. "Was it a big move?"

I nodded. "It was an international move."

"Why? And from where?"

"You're much more talkative than you were yesterday," I commented, pleased at the change. At least he was talking to me.

Al's cheeks tinged pink and he averted his eyes away from mine.

"I moved here because my dad got an amazing job offer. I moved here from America," I said, answering both of his questions.

"Oh," Al said moving his head back up to look me in the eyes, his mouth forming an 'o'. "What was life like back there?"

I shrugged. "Same, I guess. It wasn't that much different from my life here, except for the few cultural changes."

Seemingly done with his interrogation, I took a chance to ask him a few questions of my own. "So, how about you? You're a transfer student right? What was your life like from wherever you came from?"

Al' face scrunched up in thought, trying to form a coherent answer. "The subjects I suppose. I've never had the chance to study Psychology, or take art classes. Calculus is definitely a challenge, and History is interesting to learn about, sans the workload that I've heard from the people trying to introduce me to the school."

My eyebrows went so high that they nearly went into my hairline. "Seriously? No sciences? Or maths? Or _art_?"

I was very surprised, nearing scandalized. It wasn't that fact that he didn't have maths or sciences—although it would be pretty cool if they could be omitted from the graduation requirements—it was the fact that he didn't have the chance to study art.

But it wouldn't be anything to worry too much about; art can also be self-taught. It was just that I only gained an interest because I took a leap of faith and tentatively took an art class when I was twelve, despite my parents' protests. It was the best decision I ever made for myself, second only to taking a creative writing class.

Al looked a little embarrassed. Or perhaps it was shame. "Yeah, no art department in my school. The school board never thought of implementing one. Although, we have some pretty cool astronomy classes, that are taken pretty late at night, when the stars are visible in the sky."

"Astronomy classes? _At night_?" I said incredulously. I embarrassed to admit that I scoffed a bit; astronomy was a cool class. "Where in the hell do you go school to? I don't think this school has an astronomy class, let alone one that has classes at night. At best it might be an extracurricular and at worst, we might not even have one."

He gave me a lopsided smile, and I felt like my heart was beating slightly faster. It wasn't that I had a crush on him or anything, it was just that he was a particularly good looking person, with his hair looking carefully mussed up, and his almond shaped eyes. He reminded me of a certain actor, except with a few obvious and subtle changes scattered throughout. I can't think of who he was yet, but he was on the tip of my tongue.

"I go to a boarding school up in Scotland," he replied, vaguely gesturing upwards, seemingly trying to point towards the direction of Scotland.

"That's up north right? Takes about nine hours to get there?" I asked.

Al nodded in confirmation.

"Why would you transfer here? There's really not much to see here. It's just a local school for those who live around here," I said. After thinking about it a bit more, I added, "And you live next to me; why don't you go to this school? If you live here, you are technically zoned to go here."

Al looked the slightest bit overwhelmed and just the tiniest bit nervous. Maybe my questions were too straight forward and too personal.

I backtracked and apologized to him. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer me. I'm just curious about you, since we only get new students at the beginning of the year."

He looked relieved and guilty at the same time. "No, no, it's fine. I'm kind of a stranger here aren't I?" he questioned, laughing awkwardly, as though he was trying to diffuse the tension.

I noticed he had an uncanny habit to run his hand through his hair whenever he was nervous because in the past three minutes, he did it at least five times.

"The place we live in—the one next to you—is sort of a place we don't use. My family lives with our relatives, with our grandma and grandpa because my family thought it would be easier to live with them. We bought the house around when my parents decided to start a family, but they never used it after our childhood years. And I never enrolled here because it seemed easier to go to the school around where my relatives live," Al explained to me.

"Wow," I said in response, "all of you must be really close with your relatives. Is it just you that goes here? Or do your siblings go here too?"

"My siblings go here too," Al replied. He scanned around him quickly and then pointed to somewhere, presumably to where his siblings were. "There! They're sitting together, talking with some other students."

I looked over to them, and they vaguely identified with the mental picture of them I had in my mind.

"What are their names?" I asked curiously.

"Jamie and Lila."

"Oh," I said, a bit agog. Something seemed to be dawning on me, but the realization never got past the threshold of recognition or remembrance. For some reason, something about them seemed eerily familiar. Oh boy. This won't stop nagging at my mind, will it? Damn, I won't be able to sleep properly until I figure that out.

I'll just put that on the backburner for now… Or maybe forever…

Suddenly, Al squeaked a bit. I damn nearly jumped out of my own skin, I was so startled. I get scared easily.

"What's wrong?" I asked, a little bit concerned. Looking at him, he seemed the slightest bit terrified. I looked towards his line of vision and found that his siblings were walking over to us. I didn't know that was something to be terrified of.

"There's nothing wrong with them coming over here is there?" I questioned him confusedly.

"Er… Not really no, but when your siblings are even remotely like them, you find that you can only take them for minutes at a time," Al said, still looking at them.

"What are they like?" I asked, apprehension sneaking up in me.

"You'll see," Al said vaguely. He turned back in his seat and determinedly staring at his food.

Jamie and Lila had arrived, and sat down on either side of the table.

"Hello," the both of them chorused excitedly.

Realization dawned on me, and I could automatically see why Al warned me. From the only word they said to me, I could already tell that they do this often, and without even a drop of shame.

"Oh god," I whispered, hopefully out of their range of hearing.

"Hello, I'm Jamie—" Jamie was imitating a voice that I'm assuming wass an octave higher than his normal voice.

"And I'm Lila!" Lila had an unusually chipper voice, I noticed.

"We're his siblings!" they said together, pointing to Al, who was trying to curl in on himself. He looked absolutely pitiable.

"I know," I said, smiling weakly.

Jamie lit up. "Oh so he's already talked about us?"

"How nice of him," Lila added in brightly.

"Good things I hope?" Jamie directed to me.

"Er… I kind of?" My voice went up an octave at the end, displaying my confusion for them to see.

"Kind of?" Jamie questioned with a tilt of his head, his question bordering on extremely offended.

Lila's face, on the other hand, morphed into something I'm assuming was mock hurt, since every feature on her face was so… _exaggerated_. She turned her head towards Al, and exclaimed, "Allie!"

I stifled a laugh. _Allie_?

"It was nothing," Al answered. "Just to beware of you two. You can be a handful."

Both of them gasped scandalously.

"How—"

"—dare you—"

"—we're not like that—"

"—in fact—"

"—we are angels," the both of them finished off. Bloody hell, that was confusing. My head was going back and forth between the two of them like a bobble head doll on a rough car ride.

"They're not twins are they?" I asked Al, completely disregarding the shouts of no from the other two.

Al sighed. "No, they aren't. In fact, they're about three years apart in age."

"Wow," I breathed, amazed that they could read each other's minds without a so called 'twin telepathy'.

The other two resumed talking.

"So, as he is our most adored brother," Jamie said, "we have to question you so that we can know that you're not a murderer."

"After all," Lila said after Jamie, "he's only just met you—"

"—and he doesn't know who to trust," Jamie finished off for Lila.

My eyes widened. I couldn't handle the pressure of being interrogated, what with two overprotective siblings (and possibly off their rockers…) all up in my face and business. But by some stroke of luck, the bell had rung, and I ran out of there as fast as I could, and went to Psychology.

Nobody could blame me for doing that, not when up against those two. Now that I think about it, they sort of remind of Hikaru and Kaoru from Ouran High School Host Club. They spoke similarly, and seemed to have a similar affinity for making people drive themselves up the wall. And then there was the talking at the same time. That was the same too. If they were both redheads and boys, they'd be spot on.

I sped my way to Psychology, and thankfully took a seat where I usually sit.

The bell hadn't rung to signal to students that they were late yet, so I was good.

Not a second later, Maya came in, and looked at me a little strangely. Maybe it was concern or confusion. "Hey. You weren't at lunch. I saw you—" Here she made a motion what I'm assuming is a train speeding along its merry way "— _zoom_! So fast. What were you running away from?"

I giggled at her use of the word 'zoom'. I often did the same thing, and seemed to have rub off on her. "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to get away from the loons that sit at my table." I grinned at her.

"Oh, Henry and Alex," Maya said sympathetically. "I understand."

Of course it wasn't Henry and Alex, but I made no move to correct her.

"Let's just forget this and move on, yeah?" I said to her, patting her back.

She just smiled at me, and turned to the front of the room.

I looked to where Al had finally taken his seat, and caught my eye. He smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes, and finally sighed of relief, and let myself listen to Miss Taylor.

* * *

 _ **Dear Killer**_ **belongs to Katherine Ewell,** ** _etc. etc. (and life goes on)_** **belongs to justonemorefic, and** ** _Ouran High School Host Club_** **belongs to Bisco Hatori.**


	3. fresh pickled toads

The next day consisted of my usual routine; brushing my teeth, taking a shower, combing my hair, eating breakfast, and exchanging perfunctory pleasantries with my mum, who was in a surprisingly friendly mood today.

I didn't ponder her strange state of mood too much, it was probably due to some good news that she'd heard.

I climb into the bus, and after a long bus ride of listening to music, I got off and walked towards History.

Arriving into the classroom, I tried to make my way to my desk, but I was blocked by the back of a girl I know very well.

Anjali Kaur.

She was a family friend, but I had only just recently grown close to her, which was purely circumstantial. We had most of the same classes, so naturally we just gravitated towards each other. It may have also helped that we were both Indian girls, who could understand very well the problems of being an Indian girl. It made for interesting conversation. I think we mostly worked as well as we do because we were similar where we needed to be, but different in a way that clicked.

But right now I wasn't exactly thinking about that when the girl still hadn't moved, still very much oblivious to my presence.

"Move," I ordered, in a tone that was the slightest bit hostile.

Anjali turned around, looking surprised, likely because of who the hostility came from. I'm usually a very nice person, I promise. But this side only came out when I'm with Anjali, a result of being very good friends.

In front of her, I caught sight of Aria, who was wearing a victorious kind of grin.

"Oooh, Hansika is getting demanding," she said in a joking tone.

I smiled despite myself, and I moved past the two of them to sit down at my seat.

"Next time," Aria declared, "Hansika should just push Anjali out of the way!"

I laughed.

"Hey," Anjali protested mock angrily, "rude!"

I gave her an apologetic shrug and turned away, blocking their conversation out.

I took out my phone and started reading until the late bell rung.

I have a bunch of tabs where multiple chapters of the story were already opened, seeing as there was no service here. They should be enough to go through the day, but if they aren't, I'll be sad for a moment, and then probably take out my newly acquired book, _Red Queen._

Somebody tapped me on the shoulder, presumably Anjali, since she sat right behind me. We don't talk much despite our proximity in this class, so I was slightly surprised.

I turn around to acknowledge her.

"Good morning," Anjali greeted with a short wave of her hand.

"Good morning," I said cheerily, genuinely happy to be talking to her. We didn't talk much inside of school, simply because we had formed different friend groups. The novelty of being new friends had worn off and we could keep a consistent and stable relationship without having to see and talk to each other every day.

"So," she said, and I prepared myself, as what was to come next was sure to be a little bit prying. She always started those kind of sensitive topics like this. "I hear you got it _on_ with a boy?" She grinned, and I feel myself blushing at what she insinuated.

"No, not at all," I responded, swelling in pride that I managed to get the sentence out normally.

Anjali pouted. "Not even a little bit? Not even a peck on the lips? The cheek?" she questioned rapidly in an attempt to get something out of me.

"Ugh, no," I said good-naturedly. "You're the one more likely to do that here aren't you?"

Anjali gasped as if I had uttered that I didn't like Dan and Phil (for the record, I do though).

"No," Anjali vehemently protested, "I'm a good noodle! I swear on my heart! I'm questioning you here, not me!"

"Do I look like the type of person to get it on with someone? I can't get a boy or girl to kiss me, let alone have sex with them," I said in dry amusement.

"Okay, fine, maybe not got it _on_ ," she amended. "But it sounds like really hot tea, and I want you to spill! All of it! Of course, I won't tell anyone, but you already know that."

"Really?" I said with a raised eyebrow. "You want to do this now? Where there are literally students surrounding us at every corner?"

Anjali rolled her eyes. "They're not listening, they're talking with other people. They don't give a rat's ass about your business, considering that you're not considered a 'popular', as they say."

I gasped, but of course not in real hurt. It was a fact, and it was a fact that I'm all too grateful that was true. "Bitch!"

"Oh, shut up," Anjali said, rolling her eyes for the second time. "You know what I mean."

"It's nothing," I whispered, leaning in close to her. You could never be too safe right? "We met in Psychology and I was interested because I had never seen him before."

Anjali snorted. "Honey, he could have been there for the whole year and you still wouldn't have noticed."

"Fuck you," I said, not a hint of animosity making itself known. Not that there was any.

"Gladly, darling," Anjali said, honey practically dripping off her tongue.

" _Fuck you_ ," I said more emphatically.

Anjali just smirked. But seemingly not done, she said quieter, "You'll tell me the details after school?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Like there was any doubt."

Anjali leaned back, satisfied, and turned her attention to the front of the room where Mr. Harrison was getting ready to speak.

I turned around in my seat, and took out a piece of notebook paper to write notes on.

Mr. Harrison began his usual lecture on the readings we were supposed to do last night, and I took notes that could be passed off as okay.

Not long later, ten minutes before class ended, he announced that we would have an essay to write that would be due tomorrow. Handwritten.

The entirety of the class groaned collectively, not looking forward to the long hours of staying up ahead of them.

" _Your topic will be,_ " Mr. Harrison yelled over the groans with a disapproving stare, "to do an essay on how the formation of global trade has benefitted and as well as destroyed civilizations. We have went over the evidence you will be using to write the essay in class. Don't forget to write a strong thesis and use citations accordingly." He glanced quickly at his watch. "We have ten minutes left in class. You could probably outline the basics of your essay within this time. Get on with it."

I sighed. _Fuck._ I would probably be staying up pretty late considering the fact that I had a chemistry lab report to finish up, and a Psychology test the day after tomorrow. And not to mention calculus. _Fucking calculus._ I will rue the day I had ever agreed to take Calculus with Anjali, because the teacher made it seem like you got it, and made you think that it was actually super easy, but then you get to the homework and then you fall off a fucking ninety degree cliff. Well, at least Anjali sucked more at Calculus than I do, and I could probably lord that over her head until the day I die.

The bell rung for us to leave, and I walked past Anjali and her 'clique,' for lack of a better word. The connotation of the word didn't at all describe her friends though. They were actually quite nice people, and I could probably get along well with them if I had bothered to talk to them. They were very strange because I just heard them say something about Rhys (the boy Anjali was talking to) 'would bloody lead the _Fifth Crusade…'_ See? Strange.

I walked to the next class hoping that the day would be over, because school just generally got on every one of my nerves.

* * *

Lunch break had mercifully arrived, and I quickly walked to my usual table. It was the same old song and dance, with Henry and Alex arriving seconds after me, and me holding a short conversation with them. Marcus and Connor arrived minutes later. What I hadn't considered was that Jamie and Lila might come by.

Fucking Christ. They were persistent, I'd give them that. Most people just stop after the first failed attempt.

The two of them sat down as if everything was hunky-dory. It may seem unorthodox, but once you and a group claim a table at the beginning of the year, it was generally respected that the table or spot of choice belonged to them. Adding new people to the group was up to the people of the group themselves. And the thing was, we hadn't decided anything about the two of them, and I hadn't told my group about Jamie and Lila, as it had seemed like a onetime thing. Apparently not.

To my friends' credit, they merely gave the two strangers a curious glance and then went back to whatever they were doing.

Jamie smiled at me, and I blanched inwardly. Maybe not, seeing as Jamie's smile got marginally wider. Bloody bastard was actually _proud_ that I was bloody scared of him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn't deal with confrontation well and I could only hope I could keep up with their questions; they seemed like the type to give you numerous questions, but with only so much time to answer. I could do this for them, considering their intentions were good, but you know what they said: _the road to hell is paved with good intentions._

"So," Lila began brightly (will she ever be anything else?), "it seems that we didn't get to finish our conversation yesterday."

"Would hardly call it a _conversation,_ " I muttered to myself.

"What was that?" Jamie asked curiously, tilting his head. "I couldn't hear you."

"Nothing," I hastily answered.

"Sorry if we scared you off yesterday," Jamie apologized, with an equally apologetic smile on his face.

"We definitely did, considering how you scarpered off yesterday! Nearly scared poor Albus." Lila laughed heartily.

" _Albus?_ " I repeated to them disbelievingly, despite the fact that they threw the name around so carelessly. "Who in the ever loving _fuck_ would name their child _Albus?"_

Jamie and Lila shared a look. The kind that was trademarked as suspicious to me, and probably something along the lines of ' _oh shit we fucked up'_ to them.

"Our parents," Jamie answered truthfully. He leaned as if he was about to share a secret of utmost importance. "You see—"

"—our parents were psychos," Lila cut in.

"And we think that—"

"—they were on some kind of drugs. Maybe they were stoned?" Lila said thoughtfully (how thoughtful could something really be if said topic was marijuana?), tapping a finger to her chin to complete the act.

"I hardly think that Mum and Dad would have gotten fucking stoned right after they gave birth," Jamie said dismissively.

That was the first instance where I found out that Jamie _didn't_ agree with what Lila finished his sentence off with. Curious.

"She," I corrected.

Jamie turned towards me with a questioning tilt of the head. It looked vaguely cute on him, with his messed up hair so similar to Albus'. Ugh, it felt weird calling him that. I think the nickname Allie was better. I think I'll stick with calling him Al.

"Only your mother gave birth," I said by way of explanation.

"True," Jamie agreed with a short nod of his head.

Lila, keen to turn back to the original conversation, suggested, "Maybe they made a bet on the terms that the winner would choose Albus' name."

Jamie snorted. "What would they bet on?"

It was also now that I had noticed that the usual inane chatter at our table had halted, and that all heads were turned in rapt attention towards Jamie and Lila, and their volleyball like conversation. Well, Jamie and Lila's choice of topic was rather amusing.

"I don't know," Lila said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe how long it would take for Mum to push Albus out of her vagina?"

All the occupants at our table, sans Lila and I, made a disgusted face. Boys.

Lila looked to them and said forcefully, "Oh, woman up."

Woman up, huh? I think I rather liked that phrase.

"That's plausible enough," Jamie agreed. "The uncles in our family would be – _ahem –_ stupid enough to make that bet."

"But…" I trailed off. "Albus? As in Albus _Dumbledore?_ "

Jamie and Lila both gave me a ' _yikes_ ' sort of look.

"Bloody hell," I breathed, maybe out of some kind of reverence. "I get that Harry Potter's pretty popular but… I didn't think your parents would have been born in the era of Harry Potter? Nor be as fanatic as I thought they would be as latecomers."

Jamie and Lila both looked distinctly uncomfortable.

It was Lila who spoke first. "What do you mean? Harry Potter?"

I looked skeptically at them. "You don't know the Harry Potter series?"

"We weren't aware until now," Jamie offered.

"How could you not be? Harry Potter has been circulating between populations for at least more than a decade," I exclaimed, my voice bordering on disbelief. "And the name Albus itself is pretty obscure, and it only became prominent because of the Harry Potter series."

Jamie and Lila both stared at me unnervingly and relentlessly. Was this their form of 'desperate measures'? Because it could literally disintegrate people considering how sharp and ' _I'm judging you blatantly_ ' it was. Unsurprisingly, I became extremely uncomfortable and gave in. I'm rather weak willed when under pressure, alright?

I let out a long bearing sigh. " _Fine,_ I'll let go of it. But you owe me."

The both of them sent each other triumphant smiles.

"Anyways," Lila said, snapping out of her triumphant state, "we veered off our original agenda. We came to interrogate you."

Well, nobody could blame her of sugarcoating words.

Jamie nodded solemnly.

"So," Lila said, as she leaned forward, scrutinizing me, "you met Al yesterday."

I nodded.

"And it seems it didn't work too well for you?"

Another nod.

"What happened?" Jamie questioned me this time.

"He sat at my table and apologized."

"And what do you think of him?"

"He's quiet. And I get the feeling he doesn't make too many friends that he can fully trust," I said, thinking of his previous actions and habits, and what it could mean for him. "I think he may get nervous a lot, according to the 'running his hands through his hair' tic."

"Observant," Jamie commented.

"Not really," I said, looking down and picking at the rice in my container. "I could go months without noticing that a person was in more than one of my classes. And if I do, I have a hard time recognizing them, and thinking of them as the same person."

Jamie raised an eyebrow at that. Perhaps I had shared too much. Well, it was out in the air now.

"Do you like him?" Lila pushed, unconsciously moving closer to me.

"Sure, yeah, you can say that," I answered, unsure of where this is going.

"So, what are your intentions with him?" Now she leaned forward even more closely, as if to assert her own dominance. Unlucky for her, invading one's personal space wasn't a tactic that worked on me when you were the touchiest person you knew.

"None," I said, with a somewhat bored expression on my face. "I have no intentions for him. Yet. So I'll—" I clicked my tongue at her "—let you know when I figure that out." I made finger guns at her. My friends thought it was funny, considering finger guns have been outdated for years. I swear I'm not the only one who does it; Anjali had a habit of doing it too.

Lila finally cracked a smile at me and moved back, giving me my space. "One last question."

"Hit me with it," I said, eying her warily.

"Do you plan on dating him?"

I straightened up, and looked at her in surprise. Damn, I have to say, the girl was absolutely shameless. I can respect that, but I can see it would also become bloody annoying.

"I don't know! Nobody plans on dating people, or liking them for that matter," I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands up into the air. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to set me up with your brother!"

Lila's expression changed slightly, but immediately went back to its previous expressionless… expression.

"Wait, what the _fuck_ , you were actually trying to set me up with your brother?" I said with a shrill and a shrieky sort of voice. I wasn't proud of it, I'll tell you that.

"No, not at all," Lila replied after a suitable amount of time. Except for one tiny slip up, her façade was unbreakable. There was no evidence to say she was lying.

"Alright, fine," I said, conceding defeat. "But what if I do date him?"

"Then we'll deal with that later," she said with a dismissive hand gesture, turning her head to look away from and instead look at the trees a distance away from her.

"You make it sound like I'm going to kill your brother after I'm done with him," I said dryly.

Lila grinned. "Maybe. We never know, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," I grinned back at her. "After all, I am an Indian girl."

Lila took on a confused expression. "…What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, a lot of things my friend," I said. "A lot of things."

Sensing the conversation to be over (and that the bell was about to ring), I started packing my things up. It turned out I forgot to eat while bantering with Jamie and Lila. I wondered how I'd explain that to my mum. Oh well, I supposed I'd eat it when I get home.

* * *

"Today was a _day,"_ Anjali said emphatically as she hopped, skipped, and jumped off the stairs of the bus.

"Really?" I asked with a curious tilt of my head, a small smile likely to be playing on my lips. I started crossing the street to go to the side with a crosswalk.

"It _was_ sweetheart," Anjali said, nodding. "I totally forgot to ask about the volunteering thing I've been raging to you about for, like, the past month."

I laughed a short laugh. "Typical."

Anjali narrowed her eyes at me. "Fuck you."

Ah, yes, the mandatory 'fuck you' of the afternoon. "Of course," I replied, amused.

"So, anyways, the thing we were talking about this morning," Anjali said. "I still want details."

"I thought you would have forgotten by now," I said with a roll of the eyes.

"Getting anything out of you that's even a shred related to your love life is like pulling out barely grown adult teeth. When I have the chance to get in on your life, Hansika, _I will take it,_ " Anjali said, a tad bit intimidating. She knew the rules and the game of intimidation a bit too well.

"There was a boy in my Psychology class—oh wait, you already know this," I said sarcastically.

" _Details!_ "

"Oh fuck—" She nudged into my side rather hard, and it took quite a bit of force on my part to catch myself from falling and steady myself.

"Okay, fine! It literally was _nothing._ I introduced myself to him—go me—and I asked him what his personality type was, he answered, and then he brushed me off," I said hastily, to satisfy her need somewhat.

"That's all?" Anjali asked skeptically.

"No. Then he came by to my lunch table to apologize for being so rude and dismissive and then we talked for a bit," I informed her. "His siblings were the _real_ treat though."

"Yeah?" Anjali asked with a lift of her brow, looking like she was mildly interested.

"They were, all summed up, _weird._ They talked like they're twins, and they're strangely overprotective of Al. Al, that's his name. I think they're rather endearing, truth be told. But I could do without the pushiness."

Anjali looked at me curiously. "Haven't heard of people like that since Hikaru and Kaoru and _they're fictional._ "

"Right?" I cried out emphatically, thankful I was not alone in that one thought. "They are _so_ Hikaru and Kaoru. Same exact propensity for mischief. I think their sense of it much more subdued though."

"They sound exactly right up my alley." Anjali smirked.

"I should take you to meet them sometime," I offered. "We have the same lunch."

"Nah, I'll pass. But thanks," Anjali said. "But I'll gladly meet your new boyfriend."

She wore the most prideful of smirks that I wanted to slap it off of her face. I sent her my most intense glare. That was to say, not at all. I don't glare that often.

"Okay _fine, to be_ boyfriend," Anjali amended jokingly.

I didn't let up on my glare.

"What? You think I'm not getting you a boyfriend? You're bonkers then, mate. Also, anybody who has green eyes will definitely make beautiful babies."

"What?" I said, my eyes widening slowly. "I never said _anything_ about the color of his eyes!"

"But word definitely gets around!" Anjali sing-songed, giving me a sidelong glance and waggling her finger knowingly. "I've heard _so_ many things; like how his eyes are green like freshly mown grass, or green as newly cut emeralds, or like, fuck, I've even heard that his eyes are quote unquote, 'out of this world and definitely not any shade of green you'd find in this color spectrum.'"

I finally adhered and giggled slightly. I was about to reply back when an outside noise nearly made my soul up and leave my body.

I looked behind me to confirm my fears. It was Al, who was laughing with a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles. His gaze shifted between the both of us, amused.

It took Anjali all of one look at my face to recognize who this was.

Before I could stop her, she put her hand out in greeting.

"Hello," Anjali greeted with the most charming of smiles, "I'm Anjali. And you are?"

Al gave her an equally charming smile, and greeted her back with a shake of her hand. "I'm Al, but I'm sure you already know that."

Anjali raised her one of her eyebrows in silent question.

"You guys were pretty loud, and _I_ certainly couldn't help it if I overheard," Al said innocently, but the glint of mischief in his eyes made me think otherwise.

Anjali rolled her eyes too hard, almost that they rolled to the back of her head. " _Suure_ you couldn't, mate."

Al gave a small shrug of his shoulders, and a smile to go along with it. "Believe what you want." He walked past us, but stopped just short of crossing the road on to the next sidewalk. He turned around and gave us a strange sort of smile, the kind where the corners of his eyes crinkled as was when a true smile was given. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, and there was that glint again in his eyes—"I've also heard that my eyes _are as green as a fresh pickled toad._ " And with that last remark, he shrugged and walked on ahead, presumably to his home.

I exchanged a look that was a mix of surprise and amusement with Anjali, who had nearly the same expression. We burst out in laughter, and it didn't stop for a while.

"I can't believe he just did that," I wheeze, trying to catch my breath and wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Well," Anjali said, traces of amusement still in her voice, "he's a keeper, if he knows his Harry Potter trivia."

I burst into laughter again at the pun she seamlessly weaved into her words.

We eventually went our separate ways, and I came home much happier than I was before.

* * *

 **Hikaru and Kaoru belong to Bisco Hatori. The 'fresh pickled toad' line is from** ** _Chamber of Secrets_** **, although not sure which page.** ** _Red Queen_** **belongs to Victoria Aveyard.**


	4. god has left the room

Chemistry was a careful science, you know. You had to measure every chemical out, wear your goggles, wear the lab coat, etc. You had to walk around the lab stations carefully, and be sure not to, like, spill anything. Teachers always stressed that you had got to be super careful with the beakers.

Apparently, none of that applied, nor did anyone remember because I'm pretty sure I saw a person over there in the back rub some spilled over chemical on their pants. I hope it was like some mildly basic water or something. I also counted at least three beakers breaking today.

What the fuck. Literally, I stressed over these labs because you were given your own autonomy, and I'm always pretty much a confused bunny hopping around. I needed a guide, seriously. I wouldn't be able to be relaxed enough to wipe some lethal chemical on my pants.

I looked back to my own lab paper, shaking my head, and looking down at the table I had drawn, the rows and columns left blank. I didn't get to write down anything.

This lab by far was the most stressful for me because it had some absolutely confusing instructions, and I swear I couldn't do half of them because my hands were too big to fit into the pitcher. If you hadn't noticed, most of this lab needed pretty small hands.

That and—since today seemed to be the day of realizing things—my lab partners were Lila and Jamie.

Like, what the fuck? First of all, I'm deeply disappointed in myself because you'd think I would notice such loud and bouncy people in my class. Second of all, I'm confused as all hell because didn't Al say that they were three years apart? Technically, by normal school and age standards, Lila should be in Biology, and Jamie should be in Physics. The only person I should expect to see here was Al. Third of all, they were the worst lab partners ever.

Ever. In the history of time. The absolute worst.

I had gotten to class fully aware that I had a lab today; I wore my running shoes as protocol called for. I was ready to get this lab done and over with, and Maya (she was in my Chemistry class, thank god) and I had already decided that we'd be partners.

No luck. All of that fell in shambles when I heard their laughs echoing around the room (the room was still devoid of students; my previous class was right across so I was early). I stopped in my tracks and just stared at them, long enough for them to notice me at the entrance and wave hello.

I cleared my head and made my way to my desk in the front, a little ways off from the center. I began to take out my binder and papers for chemistry.

Maya had arrived shortly after, and she greeted me hello as well.

The chemistry teacher had given a briefing of the lab, and let us go. I was moving to get the goggles, when I was forcefully pulled back by two pairs of hands, and came face to face with Lila and Jamie.

I blinked at them. "Hello. Mind letting me get my goggles?"

"Er, no," Lila said plainly. "The teacher told us to pair with you."

"What about Maya?"

"The teacher said she'd pair up with her. Told us you'd show us the ropes."

My lips twisted in distaste. Maya would have to work without me. I at least enjoyed being clueless with her. Jamie and Lila, not so much.

"Alright," I said, "don't slack off, please."

The two of them whooped and followed to get their goggles. I snagged a lab station a little off to the right, close to what we needed.

"Hey, okay, so the cabinets are labeled so it's pretty self-explanatory. Sometimes, there are lab apparatuses that we have to have special permission to use because they're pretty dangerous," I began, pointing to their respective cupboards.

"Like what?" Jamie asked, sounding a little excited at the prospect of danger.

"Er..." I said, my mind blank. "I can't name any at the moment, but if I come up with any, I'll let you know."

I continued on with my little tour. "So, you also will need to wear shoes every time we do a lab, which the two of you already seem to be wearing, so good job on that front," I said approvingly. "Sometimes we'll need gloves, and very rarely will need lab coats. Long hair, of course, will need to be put into a hairdo that won't touch chemicals."

"Why?" Lila asked.

That was kind of a dumb question, but she genuinely seemed to not know.

"So your hair won't catch on fire," I said, laughing. "Although, maybe that would be pretty alright with me if it means my parents will let me cut my hair."

Lila cracked a smile.

"Okay, I think that's all," I said, thinking of nothing else to say. "Oh wait, nope. First and foremost rule: always follow protocol, and don't stray from what the lab calls for."

"What if you don't?"

The both of them now seemed even more excited, and I felt irritated that they would love chaos and danger so much.

"Because you might kill someone, or severely impair them," I said plainly. "Sorry to burst your bubble. But even then there are some pretty cool experiments where explosions occur. We might do a demonstration though, not a lab."

Lila and Jamie were pacified at this.

Finished, I go to get the lighter, a pitcher of water, and a beaker.

I set them down and look at the lab paper for what to do next.

"Can I hold them?" Lila questioned, curiously looking at the beaker.

"Uh, yeah, sure, just be careful not to drop it, it's glass," I said absentmindedly, playing around with my mechanical pencil.

As I was reading, I guess Lila took it as her chance to examine the beaker, but it slipped from her hands as it was wet. I heard the telltale shatter of glass, and quicker than a flash I turned around, yelling a rather loud curse.

And for that I almost slapped myself because the teacher has a strict rule of keeping the language clean.

The teacher came by and looked at me disapprovingly—even more so than usual—and told me to clean it up.

Grudgingly, I did, but then—here was the kicker—Jamie was leaning on the table and accidentally knocked over the pitcher of water on my head, effectively soaking my hair and clothes.

I let out a noise of surprise, and then sigh, because of _course_ this would happen to me. I closed my eyes and told myself to calm down. I could make out the apologies shooting out rapidly out of Lila's and Jamie's mouths.

"Its fine," I said, unwillingly coming out angrily.

The flow of apologies increased, and I stopped them by dismissing them, rather rudely if thought about it.

I cleaned up the glass, and then shifted my focus on getting the water all cleaned up, and drying myself off. By the time I was done, nearly the whole class was over.

And here I am, staring at my blank lab paper, contemplating if finishing it was worth it. I resolved, that yes, it was, and that I would come in tomorrow morning to finish.

As everybody finished up and started putting their things away, the teacher offhandedly mentioned that the lab was due on Monday and we have a test the Wednesday after.

This only worsened my sour mood.

Somebody commented rather loudly, "Get your tombstones ready because we're all going to die!"

The comment got cheers of ' _ayyy_ ' and ' _girl, trueee_ '.

It vaguely registered to me as funny but it didn't do much to lift my mood.

As I was leaving, a hand brushed my shoulder, and I lifted my head to see Maya's apologetic face.

I shook my head trying to convey that it wasn't her fault.

Not surprisingly, I heard Lila's and Jamie's chattering voices behind me growing closer. I didn't walk faster or anything, but I was in pretty horrible mood and I didn't want to do anything I'd regret.

But nonetheless I was still eventually stopped from proceeding to my next class with their still apologetic faces.

Jamie began, "I'm sorr—"

I cut him off, having no more patience left. "Haven't you apologized enough?"

Jamie only grew more insistent, and his hair, I swore, grew more frazzled as his apologies did.

"It's fine. It's whatever. Whatever's done is done. Move past it," I said, rather indifferent.

Lila jumped in with, "But—"

For the second time today, I cut someone off. "Look, I don't mean this as a way to avoid or offend you, but I've still got a class to attend. I'll talk to you both at lunch; now can I go?"

They moved aside wordlessly, and I ran to class, not risking running late.

* * *

I arrived in Fashion no better than I was in Chemistry. I was sort of expecting the sewing to calm me down, and if it doesn't, the three girls next to me will.

They were really nice, and they talk a lot. One of them wore really well done make-up that made me resent the fact that my face was so sensitive to make up. She always looked like a doll. Not in the literal sense mind you, that would just be fucking creepy.

If anybody looked at them, anybody might immediately label them as stereotypical white girls, but they really weren't. I liked them, even if I'm not friends with them. It made me sound like a stalker but you can't help hearing things when you sat right next to them.

I love hearing about how they make little café dates on Mondays that were particularly weary on them, and it really was very endearing.

Supporting sisterhood was one thing, but seeing it for yourself was another. It was a sort of magic all on its own.

I could never do that, considering that I liked staying inside the comforts of my own room, and that my friends could certainly go a few days without me. It all worked out in my favor really, but if I really wanted to be in their presence, I could just ask them.

Right now, they were sewing, staying quiet, the only sound being the soft music in the background, engulfed in their work. It was a busy week, and they had to finish their garment by the end of this week to participate in the Local London Fashion Week. It wasn't as prestigious as the real London Fashion Week, but it was an opportunity to those who wanted to upstart a career in the ever competitive fashion industry. I wasn't participating, but it was still pretty cool to be making a design of your own.

Presently, I was waiting for class to be over. The whole class I worked on a pretty simple dress, and now I was getting hungry. Apparently, being dumped with water increased my appetite.

The bell rung, and I waited for the flood of girls to pass me by before I make my way to my table. It was empty, but not for much longer; I could see Henry and Alex from the distance, bickering as siblings are wont to do. They always did find something to make a quarrel out of, but I genuinely think it was because of a lack of nothing better to do.

As they sat down, I asked warily, "What's it about now?"

"Wuthering Heights," Alex said. "We're debating Nelly Dean, you know the maid who tells half the story."

"I'm sorry?" I said, baffled.

"You see, Alex thinks that Nelly is the only genuine character in the book, but I call bullshit and say that Nelly isn't. What would you say about her?" Henry asked eagerly, leaning forward a bit too close to my face.

"I don't think she is," I said after finally being able to gather what paltry information I knew about Nelly. "She was damn sight better than literally everybody else but anybody who was so willing to spill the tea about the family she worked for must have had some kind of problem. Like wow, I'd have gotten along with her splendidly."

Henry raised his arms in the air in triumph and exclaimed, "Told you!"

Alex, dejected, flipped him, and started eating a few saltines. He must have had a stomach bug or something, because after one or a couple ten, they start to become bland and a chore to eat.

"Are you guys reading Wuthering Heights in English?" I asked curiously.

"Nope."

"Okay, are you reading it currently in general?"

"Nah."

"…Why were you fighting about it then?"

"It originally started out when Alex said something about starting to read Romeo and Juliet in English."

"That has nothing to with Wuthering Heights."

The both of them shrugged carelessly.

I sighed. "I give up."

Henry positively beamed at me and said, "Funny how one thing can lead to another even though completely unrelated."

"Don't do that with your voice," I said disapprovingly, shaking my head. "It sounds like you're on helium."

Henry looked away and scowled. "I don't do drugs!"

"I didn't say you are dummy. Besides, helium isn't a drug. It's air." I grinned at him. Now he flipped _me_ off.

"What are you all talking about?" A lilting voice asked. "Wait, I heard drugs, I don't want to know."

I whipped my head to my left side, in complete surprise. I broke into a grin and said dramatically, "Hark! For the Queen Maya Grey has deigned to make an appearance at our lowly table!"

Henry and Alex chimed in, "All hail the Queen!"

"Oh dear lord, shut up you guys people are staring at us," Maya said, scowling at all of us in turn. Although, on her soft featured face, it looked much more subdued.

"When aren't they?" I asked rhetorically. I glanced behind me; they indeed were throwing us strange looks. I suppose it was a first for us, but Maya's appearance at a reasonably early time was reason enough.

"Anyways," I said, moving on from the topic, "how was your day Maya?"

"Good," she said, a tiny smile gracing her face. It was cute. "You?"

I grimaced. "Not so well, as you already know. My hair is wet, and my mom is ticked off as it is. We may or may not have gotten into a fight again. She'll probably force me to wash my hair, and I absolutely hate doing that."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Maya said, frowning.

"It's fine," I said automatically, as was the customary reply.

"So how come you don't like washing your hair?"

"Have you seen my hair? It's like I'm Medusa, and I have a head of snakes for hair. I swear my hair actually _hisses_ at me when I try to do anything at all with it," I said, tugging on my hair and looking at it with disdain.

"At least it's not like it was when we were in eighth form," Maya said, taking a strand of my hair in her fingers. "I remember you used to wear it in plaits and they would still come down to your waist. I could've played jump rope with it. And maybe use it as reigns, like the ones they use on horses, for when you were reading and didn't know where to go."

"Oh my god, Maya, that was _one_ time. One time!" I said, scowling intensely enough to make some small ninth formers change their leisurely amble into a quick shuffle. They were _such_ prey to predators.

"You ran into a pole – an actual, literal steel pole – and broke your nose. You fell down onto the ground and made your tailbone sore. You had to go to the infirmary to get your nose fixed and you couldn't sit down properly for weeks," Maya said, amusement coloring her voice in spades.

"Oh, so I'm labeled for life now?"

"Yep," Maya said gleefully. "You'll never escape it!"

"Alright, that's it, I'm stealing your grapes!" I made a grab for her lunchbox.

Maya's face changed from amusement to alarm in a flash, and her hands darted out to grab her lunch and clutch it tightly to her chest. She jumped from her seat to the next one. I, having leaned to far forward, bumped my chin on the table, hard.

"Ow!" I rubbed my chin to relieve the pain.

"You deserve that," Maya exclaimed.

"I just want your _graaapes_ ," I whined irritably, and believe me, I knew how annoying it was, "Don't you think I don't deserve them after my day?"

"Okay," Maya said skeptically, slowly taking the bag of grapes from her lunchbox and eyeing me. I made a desperate grab for them, but she pulled them away farther from me. I repeated my movements, and so did she. It was like a cat trying to get a ball of yarn, but it just couldn't because it was too high up on the shelf. She must have come to the same conclusion because she started giggling, her face going red.

Not long later, I burst into giggles too.

"That made my day a whole lot better," Maya said laughingly. It suddenly struck me that there was something about her face that changed when she laughed as hard as she did, as if she became truly alive. There was an underlying sense of potential life buzzing underneath her skin, and I wondered why she didn't show it off more, because it made her look like a child who thought the world was theirs to explore. It was a nice look, but I guess she was always meant to be reserved until she wouldn't be.

"It's nice to know my pain brings such entertainment," I said sarcastically.

"Oh, hush," Maya said, finally throwing me her bag of grapes.

"Grapes, glorious grapes!" I crowed in happiness, and bit satisfyingly into one of the juicier grapes.

"Greedy, greedy," Maya tutted disapprovingly.

"That's me," I said, sending a sweet smile to her.

Maya rolled her eyes and took a small bite out of her sandwich.

"How much do you eat a day, Maya?" I asked her, noticing that in the fifteen minutes she was here she had barely eaten her sandwich. Meanwhile, I could practically inhale a plate of dahl and rice in about ten minutes; three if I was really hungry.

"Err, not much," Maya said, thinking about it. "I recall that I'd set a record for eating two Oreos."

"And what's that?"

"Two hours," Maya said somewhat proudly.

"Jesus Christ girl, you need some meat on those bones!" I examined her arms, which were worryingly thin.

"It's fine, I eat some nuts and chocolate chips during English, and on occasion, a bag of Chex mix," Maya said disinterestedly.

"Like a hummingbird," I said playfully. "Anything you ever do reminds of a hummingbird! The need for perfection, the way you eat nuts, oh, and the way you only nibble on your sandwich! Your spirit animal is definitely a hummingbird."

"Yeah, totally," Maya agreed. "Also, I'm tiny. Five foot two is tiny."

"True." I nodded. "I'm a big giant bear with lanky limbs. Or maybe a penguin."

Maya giggled. "Remember that time you used to tell people that your name was Penguin because you didn't like your name?"

"Ugh, please don't," I said, recalling that my friends used to call me Penguin, and on occasion if they were too lazy, 'Peng'.

"That was before you found out that your name meant 'Swan' right?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I said, scrunching up my face in thought. "You would think I would like swans more, or that I would dislike penguins, but no it's actually the opposite."

"Humans are weird," Maya concluded.

I agreed.

The bell rung for next period—has lunch already gone by so fast?—and I hastened to arrive at my next class, as did Maya. She was currently packing everything up with her sandwich dangling from her mouth, and it looked dangerously close to falling on the ground. It reminded me of the cliché first opening scene of a magical girl anime; where the main character introduced herself while running to school with that one piece of toast dangling precariously in her mouth that she couldn't eat because she was late. They almost have high voices and 'quirky'—an oft-misused word—dispositions.

The class was empty, bar for a few students littered around.

Psychology, a class that oscillated between being the most exciting class to the most boring one.

I think we're doing a lecture today along with taking notes. We were far past from the personality unit and currently learning about intelligence. What a great way to tell me that I'm not as good or as smart as everyone out there.

But no, seriously. The one thing I pride myself in—my creativity—and the damn book told me I'm no good at it. Seriously, fuck life. I'm still going to draw and paint and tell the textbook to fuck off.

Miss Taylor began as soon as the bell rung, and she was speaking fast. I can barely keep up, and my hand started cramping halfway through. I suppose I'll have to supplement it by reading up on the topic at home.

Halfway through class, Miss Taylor stopped.

"I think you've had enough notes to write today, eh? So we'll do a partner activity now, you know, for variety. Switching it up helps you remember it better! So, partner up!"

I glanced at Maya, but she was already talking to the girl that was sitting next to her.

Oh fucking hell. I literally had no other friends in this class other than Maya to partner up with, and anybody who knew me knew that I suck at socializing. I was never meant to be a socialite.

So, I sat in my desk, resting my chin on the top of my palms, trying to look as disinterested as possible, trying to make it seem as if I didn't care that I didn't have a partner. It was fine though, I never really did do well working in groups. I liked it better when I didn't feel the pressure to conform to the answers of my group, especially when I knew the answer they chose was the wrong one.

Just as I was about to get up and tell the teacher I'd be working alone, a tap on the shoulder caught my attention, and I promptly turned.

It was Al, and he was smiling slightly.

"Want to be partners?"

I nodded, much too relieved to have gotten a partner I'm somewhat familiar with.

I sat back down, and gestured for him to sit in the empty desk in front of me.

As people settled down, Miss Taylor passed out a packet of papers, and I gave one to Al.

I skimmed the contents of it, and the first activity was simple enough. It asked to give instances where each of Gardner's intelligences can be shown.

"Um," Al started, looking down still at the papers, "you could do public speakers for Linguistic."

I wrote that down, and looked back at the directions. "Says we need to list three examples for each."

"I'm aware," Al said. "You can come up with a few too, you know."

"Motivational speakers, and presentational speakers," I said.

"Those are repetitive," Al remarked.

"Whatever works," I said, shrugging carelessly.

"Can I see the papers?" Al said, looking around him to grab a pen.

I slid the papers over to him, and I watched him scribble something down. He handed it back, and I saw that he wrote something down for bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.

Lindsey Stirling, dancers, and... quidditch players?

My lips tugged up slightly.

"First of all, I'm surprised you know Lindsey Stirling," I said.

"I don't. My sister blabs on and on about her, and figured she was a good example," Al said, placing his head on the table, and using his arms as a cushion.

"Oh, that's too bad," I said sadly. "I should show you sometime."

"Hmm, maybe you should." Al closed his eyes with a content smile on his face.

"So, quidditch?" I said abruptly, effectively stopping him from falling into what looked like a very peaceful nap.

He didn't open his eyes. "What about it?"

"Why quidditch players?" I asked curiously.

He picked his head up, about to answer, but then I got my answer suddenly in my head.

I cut him off to voice it. "Well, I guess you would have to be good at positioning your body and stuff to go at the right angle and to go at the right speed. Oh, and then I suppose you'd have to have strong arms to be a beater. Keepers have to make jerky movements with their body don't they to catch the quaffle, don't they? Oh, that's good. I'll write that down." I picked my pencil up and began to write.

Al laughed softly. "You know a lot about quidditch it seems."

"No, just logical guesses," I replied. "I could be completely wrong and the body wouldn't have to do anything with playing quidditch."

"It sounds about right though," Al commented.

"And what, suddenly you're the expert on it? What are you, magic?" I asked with a laugh in my tone.

A look of slight alarm took over his face, but quickly went away.

"Yeah, maybe," Al answered.

I grinned at him. "That's really nice."

I fiddled with my pencil and looked back down at the papers.

"So, why's your hair wet?"

"Thought you'd never ask. It was an accident in chemistry," I replied. "I didn't know your siblings were in my chemistry and I got stuck as scut monkey. Doing all the dirty work and introducing them to the lab. Did you know that both of your siblings were so clumsy?"

Al laughed, his eyes crinkling.

"Yeah, I mean I suppose they are. But mostly I think they were excited about chemistry, the science of explosions."

"Chemistry is exciting. Except for when you're doing titrations and you're just left wondering whether Jesus left the room," I said wonderingly, remembering the time I did titrations with my partner, and how long it took.

Al laughed again quietly, and said, "I wish I was in your class, it sounds you have some gnarly times."

I burst out in giggles, scaring him. "Gnarly is such a weird word to use. Before you, I don't think anybody has used it."

Al smiled and tried out the word on his tongue multiple times. "Now it just sounds strange and not like a word. Anyways," Al said, "you realize that they'll bug you until your forgive them?"

"Your siblings? Yeah, I did. They wouldn't let me go to class until I agreed to talk to them," I sighed, leaning back into my chair, and crossing my arms behind my head. I closed my eyes. "I'm not looking forward to it, I hate talking to people."

"You're talking to me."

"Yeah, well you're a different case."

"How?" Al asked plainly.

"Er…uh," I fumbled with my words and I gathered my thoughts into a coherent sentence. "You're here. You asked me to partner with you and I have to talk to you to do the work. Simple as that."

"Damn, I so would have said I told you so if you didn't have an answer," Al sighed, hanging his head slightly.

I shrugged. "Sorry?"

"Don't be," Al said dismissively, standing up and grabbing his things.

"It's already time to go?" I asked in surprise, rushing to get my school things.

"Yeah, time goes by fast. I'll see you later," Al said, waving goodbye to me as he went for the door.

I watched him leave and I left for my own class.

* * *

I didn't hop, skip, and jump of the bus as I would usually do, because I definitely wasn't looking forward to confronting my mum about my hair, and I know she'd be an absolute bitch over it. It was a harsh word to use for her, but it was totally true. She treasured my hair more than I do, and took care of it better than I do and it was very unnerving. I've wondered on passing days where I was bored what she would be like if I just chopped all of it off in the worst haircut possible to my shoulders. She'd probably throw a fit.

I crossed the road and began my walk home, which was unfortunately long, and that was so unfair. It was ironic because I would literally go to any lengths to get good grades in school, but I can't make a five minute walk home. How weak. I was such a weakling.

I was surprised out of my wits when a seemingly invisible hand grabbed my shoulder and I squealed loudly.

"Jesus Christ woman, it's just us!"

Oh, that was definitely Lila's voice.

I spun around to face them but didn't stop walking; I just continued towards my home, just backwards.

"Right," I said, blinking at them. "So, Al told me about the whole song and dance. About how you're going to, like, bug me about forgiving you." I glanced behind them, I saw Al trail behind them, as if Jamie and Lila had asked to leave them alone for this. But it was easily identifiable that he was listening in, and I didn't really care. This wasn't that important anyways.

Jamie laughed airily. "Too true." Lila nodded.

"Don't waste your time, honestly. I'm a forgive-and-forget kind of person, so like, you were forgiven after third period ended," I said, giving them a bored look.

"But like—"

"But you want to make it up," I interjected. I am just on a roll today aren't I?

They both nodded.

"Fine, I guess," I said, trying to think of something for them. I mean, I had to make some sort of effort, right? "Okay, then let me tutor you guys."

"Tutor us?" Jamie questioned me.

"That's more helping us than it is you," Lila added in, unimpressed.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I agreed, "but it would get me quite a few volunteering hours. My teacher doubles the amount of hours a student does, and she gives an hour per person. So like, I'm not complaining. I need the hours for college anyways, so it definitely isn't a _bad_ thing."

The both of them looked at me, looking unconvinced and skeptical.

"Oh, and bring Al too, let's make it a freakin' party," I exclaimed, lighting up. "I won't be able to get much in hour wise this summer anyways, since I'll be studying for my last year of schooling."

"You're such a nerd," the both of them said in sync, something akin to a fond smile on both of their faces.

"I'll take that as a compliment, thanks," I said, grinning at them.

"So, when will we meet up?" Al asked, joining us when he heard his name.

"I don't know, we'll work out the details this weekend or something," I said. "You live right next to me, so…"

"Okay, then," Al said, smiling at me, "it's a date."

"So it is," I replied, ecstatic at being able to cross off a problem that had been plaguing me this year. "I'll see you all tomorrow, yeah?" I waved them all goodbye, and sprinted home, just wanting to get the potential train wreck with my mum over with.

* * *

 ** _Wuthering Heights_** **belongs to** ** _Emily Bronte_** **,** ** _Romeo and Juliet_** **belongs to** ** _Shakespeare_** **, "grapes, glorious grapes" is a rendition of "food, glorious food" from** ** _Oliver!_** **the musical, and** ** _Lindsey Stirling_** **is an amazing hip hop violinist and is her own person.**


	5. you make my heart flip

"Hey, hey, hey, do you think you can help me with this problem?" Anjali asked, shifting forward on the bed to show me her calculus work.

I glanced at her work.

"The problem was asking for speed at t of five," I said, thinking over it.

"Yeah, well I know that," Anjali huffed. "It's just that my answer isn't any of the choices."

"Okay, well, you took the derivative of the position function to get the velocity function," I said, checking whether she actually did what I said. "I think you forgot that to find the speed of a particle, you need to find make the velocity function absolute."

"It's that easy," Anjali said, frowning, looking at the notes in front of her.

"It is," I affirmed, nodding.

Anjali groaned, throwing my notes up into the air, and fell back into the bed. "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw."

"Hey! Don't throw my notes like that, I literally just organized them yesterday," I said to her, throwing an annoyed glower at her, hauling myself up to gather them. "Get your lazy ass up and help me."

"No."

"I'll stop helping you with calculus and then you'll fail the exam."

"No!" Anjali jumped up off the bad and frantically began to gather the papers. "Damn, Hansa, you don't play around."

"It's literally the only threat I can use to get you to help me," I told her. "Other than that, I'm fucked."

"Too true," Anjali agreed.

"Oh, fuck off," I said.

"You said it, not me," Anjali said, raising her hands up in an 'I'm innocent' gesture.

"If I say it, you're supposed to stay neutral," I said, frowning.

"I didn't know that was a rule of friendship, thanks," Anjali deadpanned. "Besides, how many times have you agreed with one of my self-deprecating comments?"

"Okay, that's true," I conceded.

Quietly giving me the papers, Anjali observed the weather outside. She muttered to me, "How unlucky we are to be studying on a Friday. The weather's good! Nice and windy!"

I looked to where she was, and agreed. I suggested to her, "Want to call it quits and go for a walk or something? We've got Saturday and Sunday to study for it."

Anjali's sour face brightened considerably. "Yeah, let's go! Let me clean up first though."

I tapped my foot, waiting for her, and once she was done, we made our way to the front door.

On a quick judgement, I yelled out to my mum that we were going on said walk.

Popping her head out of the kitchen, she told me, "Wear shoes," just as I closed the door.

Opening the door back up a sliver, I answered, "It's a catwalk, not a run!"

"Why don't you just wear the shoes?" Anjali asked as we went our usual way.

"Because I have to rebellious at every moment in time," I answered matter-of-factly, "I'm a sixteen year old girl with hormones running all over. Did I mention that I was a teenager?"

"Hardly," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Anyways," she said brightly, "did I tell you about what happened yesterday?"

"No, I don't think so," I said, intrigued, "but do tell."

"So, I was scrolling through my dash on my phone late at night right…" And I listened, nodding and laughing at all the right places. Not that they were faked.

And she listened to me, about random musings I had at late at night when I couldn't go to sleep, funny things people had said to me during the day, and debated about the most pointless things.

Suppose like now, half an hour after we began our walk.

"But _why?_ " I asked her, the slightest bit frustrated. "It's stupid. Why would you want to know every thought that people have ever thought about you, good or bad?"

Anjali snorted, oblivious to my frustration. Good thing, that. I get worked up over the silliest things. "So I know what people truly think of me. So I can start a hit list."

"Certainly you'll start to hate everybody," I warned her, "even me. I've had intrusive thoughts about you."

"Not the intrusive thoughts though," Anjali explained. "Those are normal. Everybody has them. I know your intrusive thoughts about me. They're not as bad as you think, since your parents primed you to hate me by comparing you to me at every turn. It's normal. Besides, you got over it didn't you? You found out that I'm not nearly as perfect as your parents made me out to be. As I recall now, your parents ask you _not_ to hang out with me. That's the dream isn't it?" She gave me a crooked sideways smile, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh, fuck, how do you expect me not to fall for you when you make me feel better about myself _and_ give me that smile?" I lamented dramatically, putting a hand on my forehead in a woebegone way for good measure. "You'll send people into cardiac arrest."

Anjali's smile grew brighter, and then promptly turned away from me, haughtily, flipping her hair. "Well, of course I will. I'm just the best, aren't I?"

I snorted, caught in between laughing and telling her not really. "Yeah, definitely."

"Hmm, what was that? I heard a bit of sarcasm in there darling."

"Yes, you are the best," I told her, like a child who was forced to apologize to another. "I take what I said back. You won't send people into cardiac arrest."

"Too late now," she sing-songed to me, and skipped ahead as if sunshine, candies, and lollipops came out of her arse.

She slowed down, and waited to let me catch up to her.

"Hey, so, I've got soccer practice to get to, so this is where we stop," she told me apologetically, dropping her act.

"What about your stuff?" I asked.

"I'm coming tomorrow to study again aren't I? Its fine," she told me, dismissing my concerns.

"Alright," I said, a little down. I hadn't expected her to leave so early. I gave her a goodbye hug, and walked back the five minute walk back to my house.

It wasn't nearly as late as I thought it would be; it's only six, and the sun had peeked out from above the clouds, sending a single ray of sunshine onto the surface. Her soccer practices must go on forever, and I absentmindedly wondered how tired she would be.

I walked on resiliently ahead, even as I collided with a lithe body. I pushed on, until, someone exclaimed, "Hansika!"

I jumped out of my reverie, and looked up, surprised. I met the disgruntled face of exactly one Al, who looked like he was almost toppled over by a girl who is twelve centimeters taller than him. I say "almost" because I had caught him before he actually did.

So right now, in the middle of a street where we were easily in the view of some onlookers in the comfortable environment of their home, my arms were around his waist, and his hands were strangely placed on my chest. Awkward.

Two onlookers even wolf whistled, which I'm glad to say that it was only Jamie and Lila, from the open front windows of what I'm assuming is one of their rooms. Anyone else, and I might have died of embarassment. It was an amiable street you know, and all the mums around here knew _everything_. How they manage to do that, I didn't know, but it must take a lot of time and effort. Lucky enough for me, they were mostly pretty cool. Being caught was still embarrassing though.

My attention snapped back to the wide-eyed boy in front of me. Al blushed redder than I thought he would by a little close contact; I suppose he wasn't used to it. I was, however.

I untangled my arms from his waist, giving him a little space. The redness of his face finally calmed down to a light blush, barely noticeable, not unless you got up really close. But the point was for me _not_ to do that. So.

Al huffed. "How do you not notice a person standing right in front you? You literally almost plowed me right over."

I gave him a sheepish smile, as if that would explain it all. "I'm sorry?"

"I was _right. There_ ," Al stressed.

"I'm sorry," I told him exasperatedly, moving to hug him. Abruptly, remembering that I don't know how he felt about close contact, I stopped awkwardly, my hands suspended in the air in an uncomfortable position.

Acting as if I wasn't just about to hug him, I patted him on the shoulder, to which he acknowledged with a small glance.

Coughing a small cough, I asked him, "So, what, uh, brings you here? To the middle of the street?" Realizing belatedly that we were in fact in the middle of a street, I advised to the both of us, "We should probably move before we get mauled over by a car."

Moving far enough away from the road, he answered to my first question, "Well, you did promise us tutoring."

I gave an unimpressed expression at this. "It's Friday?"

"What better day then?" he asked of me. "I don't think you have the time on a weekday."

Quite unwillingly, I agreed. I usually spent my time doing homework for me to even consider tutoring on those days.

"Okay, then," I said. I took a look at my house right next to his, deciding it would probably be in my favor to tell my parents. "Well, we'd better at least tell my parents. Can Lila come down for a moment?"

Al looked confused for a moment, then it went away in a flash. He yelled to Lila, who was still in our view from where we could see her through her window, "Hey, Lils! Can you come down here?"

"Why?" she yelled back from where she sat.

"I don't know, ask Hansika! She's the one who asked," he hollered right back.

I hear a loud groan, and then a few seconds later, she came out the front door, approaching me, wearing fuzzy duck slippers.

I looked at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow. "Couldn't find anything to wear?" I pointedly looked at her strange choice of shoes.

"No," Lila replied, shrugging, "I couldn't. It were either these, or my mum's really tiny shoes. I swear she has feet like those of a dwarf."

"My mum's pretty tiny too," I told her, just for the sake of adding to the conversation. Outside of her being with Jamie or Al, I wasn't really sure on how to talk to her.

Lila didn't reply and instead followed me to my house.

As I reached the door, I opened it. I stood outside and yelled into the house, "Mamma?"

A moment of silence. Then, "What?"

"I'm going to be staying over a friend's house for a while," I replied, hoping she'll let me.

"Who?" she asked, her voice growing closer. She must be walking here to ask me more questions at her convenience. Amazing.

"Our neighbors' daughter," I said, quieter now, trying my best to have a pleasant voice.

She arrived holding a rolling pin and an expression that told me of her suspicion. "Who is she?"

"Lila," I squeaked.

My mum's eyes darted to Lila, scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes. Lila for her part smiled pleasantly. She sharply turned back to me. "This is her?"

I nodded, too afraid that my voice would come out squeakier.

"What time will you be back?" Although one would think that a parent asking this question implied that you had permission to go to one's house, it was not the case here. No, this was the question that made or broke their answer. It was some hard-core stuff.

"Um…" I thought for a bit about the answer. "At eight?"

She stared at me a bit too long for it to be okay.

Oh god, did I answer wrong?

Fucking— "Fine. At eight exactly. Don't do anything stupid. Those neighbors have two sons older than you." She then promptly turned around and slammed the door shut on me and I moved my hand away before it was shattered into tiny little pieces.

Well, damn. Mums truly do know everything. The point of me telling Lila was so that I _didn't_ have to tell them that she had two older brothers.

At which point I wonder how she can trust me after I had deliberately tried to keep that information away from her. I guess, when I think about it, she'd always been a little lenient about me hanging out with boys, but even _that_ was rare.

But if someone really didn't want their daughters and sisters getting pregnant, the answer was a solid sex education. It was definitely not keeping her in the dark about how basic human reproduction works. I had to teach myself, and it truly was humiliating because my parents didn't have the sense to tell me. For once I _hadn't_ known something almost everybody else knew.

"What were you two talking about?" Lila questioned as we walked to her house.

"Sorry?" I asked in confusion.

"You guys were…" She trailed off.

"I was doing what Lila?"

She didn't speak.

"I honestly don't know what you're waiting for." Maybe she was waiting for Jamie to finish her sentence because he always seemed to be there with her.

Lila snapped out of her confusion. "Speaking in another language."

"It's nothing new," I answered.

"What were you talking about?"

"Exactly what we came for. Asking if I could stay at your house for a few hours."

"Then what was the other stuff?"

I shrugged and glanced at her. "Nothing of importance."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

My lips twisted into a scowl, and I looked away. "Persistent, aren't you? I'm not telling you because it's not worth the effort it would take. Translations from a foreign language to English aren't accurate and usually lost in translation. Not to mention, I speak my mother language, but I find it hard to translate it. I'm limited in my knowledge."

As I finished, I noticed we'd arrived, but we had stopped in front of the door to Lila's house. What were we doing here, standing outside, having this conversation? What was the point?

My eyes darted around but caught nothing out of place, nothing except for a strange feeling in my chest.

Lila righted herself from where she was leaning on the door and entered in as if nothing happened. "Well? Are you coming in?"

I blinked and sent her a wary smile. "Yeah."

I walked into the cool air, and I was immediately met with pictures of Lila's family: ones where it was just the three siblings, one where Al was a toddler with big green eyes with his parents kissing him on either cheek, others where the whole family was laughing so hard where their temples _had_ to have hurt.

These were all along on the length of the wall. I had no such thing in my home.

Lila led us to the stairs and we passed objects strewn on the dining table, papers making up the majority. We stopped just as we were to climb; she called to her Mum and Dad, both of whom were likely deeper into the house.

A distinctly female voice called back: "If you're going to tell me something, come here! I can't hear you properly!"

Lila groaned comically, and went to where her parents resided. I followed suit.

When she stopped, I stood at her side. I caught sight of a rather young couple, still vibrant and energetic. Her mum leaned on her husband's shoulder absentmindedly watching a show.

They both were the carbon copy of their children, and I could definitely tell who got what from them. Something was off about them however; they looked too familiar for my comfort.

I observed them a little while more, and it clicked. The man was eerily familiar to that of the British actor Daniel Radcliffe, except with black hair and green eyes.

If he was who I thought he was, then the woman must be… No. It couldn't be.

Lila elbowed me in my hip and I hiss in pain. I glared at her, and she glared right back. Pointedly, she looked at her parents, and then back at me. It registered in my brain that this was her way of telling me that her parents had asked me something, and I wasn't listening.

I put on the most polite smile I have in my repertoire and asked just as politely, "Apologies, but what was that you asked me?"

Lila's mum (I refuse to acknowledge her by her name, if she was who I think she was) repeated again, with a slightly strained smile, "You're the Hansika my kids talk to us about so much?" It was obvious she commanded attention and respect, and it was also obvious she was used to receiving it immediately. Since I didn't give her that, I may have set myself on her warpath.

"Hansika," I corrected her. I don't particularly like it when people butcher my name, stressing all the wrong syllables. "And yes, I am."

Lila's mum's smile became more strained. Wow, I was definitely making all the wrong moves with her. "I see."

I didn't know how to salvage this situation, so instead I just informed her of what I'm here for. "I'm here to help your children out with some school assignments and I'll—"

"Yes, I am aware," she said tersely.

"—be out of here by eight…" I finished lamely. There were better ways I could have worded my sentence. I asked, with a small cough into my hand, "I hope I'm not intruding on anything? I can stay here?"

She softened at that. I guess she must have figured I'm not good at talking with adults, by the way I lowered my eyes, and staunchly didn't make any direct eye contact with her. I was looking at anywhere but. "Yes, you are."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Lila butted in, "So, uh, we'll be going now…"

I absentmindedly followed Lila. Clearly, her parents were Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. But then that would mean her name was Lily, their only daughter. Then the name Albus makes sense, and Jamie was really James. And the thing was, their names are frighteningly similar to James, Albus, and Lily, all of the names they told me being some variant or nicknames of the originals.

I shake my head, and hard. My brain was making connections too fast, and I couldn't keep up. And not to mention, all of these assumptions were based on the fact that these two people look similar to some fictional characters in a popular book series. It was highly arrogant of me to assume all these so called facts to be true when I didn't have enough evidence to back it up. There were plenty of reasons for their looks, and it was probably a freak of genetics. I was onto something with the names, but it was probably a coincidence. It happened more times than people care to believe. Or, their parents purposefully named them this way, as a tribute to their favorite characters. The Harry Potter series wa _s_ certainly for all ages around the world. I wonder if they named Albus 'Albus Severus'. The thought on its own was ridiculous.

"Hansika?"

I blinked twice, and looked at Lila quizzically.

"You've been staring at Al's wall for like a solid five minutes. You've been spacing out a lot. You okay?" Lila asked, concerned.

I stared at her blankly, until it registered what she had just asked. "Oh, uh… yeah. Definitely. Just have a lot going on next week and I'm worried is all."

It was clear for a moment that she didn't believe me, but she had nothing to call me out on. My reasons for spacing out were true and valid.

"Okay, I guess," she said, her face still set in an unbelieving expression.

"I'm fine, really," I said, giving her a genuine smile, and a dismissive wave of the hand. "So, let's get to work, yeah? We'll go one subject at a time, but we'll start with the one you've got most trouble with, which would be...?"

"World history," Al and Jamie chorused.

I looked at them, slightly scared. I had totally forgotten that they were in the room. Also, they had just done the thing that was trademarked as Lila and Jamie's. At least they had the sense to look just as horrified.

Lila, in response, only smirked.

Getting tired of standing up for so long, I walk towards the bed that both Al and Jamie occupied. Sitting on it, I noticed it had a bit of a bounce to it.

"This is a large bed," I commented, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets.

"Yeah," Al answered, patting it. "My bed is where I sleep and where I work."

I nodded. "And it's a large room too?"

Al shrugged. "I've got nothing. Mostly stuff I don't use goes in the unused spaces."

Another nod.

"World history you say," I said, almost a murmur.

The three siblings disjointedly answered yes.

"I probably should have told you this before you appointed me as your tutor," I told them ruefully, "but I suck at world history. Majorly."

Al snorted, and Jamie and Lila groaned.

I smile sheepishly. "Really, I'm sorry for that. I've got no idea what's going on in world history half the time I'm in class."

"How come?" Al asked, scooting closer to me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Never really found it all that interesting."

"Why not though? There are so many interesting things going on in history, so many cool things to know, so many interesting people…" Al trailed off, getting an almost dreamy look on his face.

"Nerd," I said affectionately, smiling at him genuinely, crinkling eyes and all.

Al flushed, and ribbed me.

"Ow," I said, even though it didn't even hurt all that much. "I know that history is cool and stuff, but I don't know. Most of my history teachers never made an effort to make history fun, so I guess I just wrote the subject off as boring and uninteresting. It's hard to understand a subject that you have no interest in whatsoever. And Mr. Harrison's funny and all… but I think the reason I'm doing well in his class is because I'm scared of what he might say if I didn't."

"I don't understand that," Al said to me. "I've definitely had teachers who've made subjects boring for me, but I've never lost interest in it. I find history so fascinating, and I love theorizing what would have happened if that happened, or if this didn't happen. Like, how _different_ would this world be if the Library of Alexandria hadn't burned down? We would be in a world that had progressed far sooner than we would have ever expected, and we—" he took a deep breath of air here "—would have technology in our hands that we could only ever _dream_ of! It may only possible in our wildest imaginations! We would know so many things of about marine life, and how much would you want to bet that our knowledge of the universe beyond our earth would increase much beyond what we could ever think of… Oh, _why_ did it ever have to burn down?" He ended his spiel on a sorrowful note, staring at me all wide eyed.

I pulled a small smile at his rant. I _loved_ it when people talk about what they were passionate about, because it turned them into a different person, almost. They were happier, brighter, and they go off into incoherent tangents, which was always an indicator that told me that they were passionate about whatever they were talking about.

"See, that's exactly what I'm bad at," I said. "I'm not the brightest person around when it comes to predicting how the world would have changed if that one little thing happened, or if a historical figure decided to take a different path. I'm not sure, I never will be, and I don't think I'm creative enough for that. The tests are pretty forward because they just ask you to recall facts, and that I can do, but then come the essays and I'm like… Yikes."

Al laughed.

"But someone like you, who's so passionate about history, why would you of all need help?" I asked, slightly sad. I knew what it felt like being passionate about something you loved, but not being good at it. Try and try as I might to improve, but I would never be as _good_ like others, I would never be able to do what I want. There were those people that said 'there will always be someone better than you,' and it helped to an extent, but it wasn't enough. It never was. Of course, I'd tell anybody who asked to not do what I did, which was to give up and move on. I supposed an upside was that I found other passions though, because while I was focused on getting better, I never looked past it, never wondered if I'd be good at something else.

Al gave me a piteous smile, as if he knew exactly what I meant, what I was asking. I wasn't sure whether to slap him or hug him. "Well, I am a little late in coming to this school, wasn't I? I'm a lot behind, and I don't really have the capacity to read two months' worth of what you all learned in world history. I can make do with notes."

"Okay, now, that I can do," I said, relieved. "I'll drop them by tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okay," Al said, smiling. He took a look around his room. "Hey, where are Jamie and—"

"We're in my room," came the answer right on cue from another room, echoing through the hall. "You guys were so into each other that you didn't notice us leaving."

We shared a look with each other.

"Alright," Al said to them. He didn't get a reply back.

"You know, we came here to tutor, but we really didn't do anything yet," I remarked, leaning back on the bedpost.

"Well, it was you that suggested it," Al answered sensibly, "but you didn't even know whether we even wanted to be tutored."

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm desperate for those hours. They look good on college apps, you know? Besides, now you know who to go if you ever do need help."

"True," he allowed. "What do you want to be?"

"That could mean a lot of things," I told him. "For all you know, I could want to be a pole dancer."

Al snorted, suddenly sitting up. He couldn't keep in his laughter, and giggles reluctantly spilled out of him.

" _What_? Really?" he asked in between laughs.

"No, silly," I said, laughing with him. "Of course not. No offense to them of course, I'm sure they have fulfilling lives and good pay."

"Yeah, of course," he said, directing his smile at me. "But I meant like what you want to do after… what was it that you said?"

I stared quizzically at him. Why would he not know what the word 'college' was? "College."

"Yeah, that."

I brushed the thought away and answered his question, "I don't really know. I mean, what normal teenager does?"

"Me, apparently," Al said, pointing to himself.

"Oh?" I said, my interest piqued. I leaned forward. "What do you want to be?"

"I'm not sure what the name is for it," Al admitted, "but I want to, like, analyze evidence from crime scenes and help catch criminals."

"I think those are called forensic scientists, or forensic investigators," I said thoughtfully, a finger tapping on my chin. "I don't know, don't take my word for it. You'll have to check it out."

"I will." Al leaned back again on his bed, his hands supporting him from behind. He closed his eyes, and hung his head back a little. From where I was sitting, I could easily tell he was an attractive person, with sharp angles, a nice smile, and pretty eyes to boot. Damn. Al's whole family were all just people who were beautiful, aren't they?

I shook my head. Why was I thinking about whether Al was pretty in the first place? I guess these kinds of things just hit you out of nowhere.

I took a look at my wristwatch, and deflated. "Hey, Al. It's almost nearing eight, and I have to go. My mum is expecting me."

Al sat up straight. "Really? So early? You could have dinner with us?"

"No thanks…" I said awkwardly, feeling bad. "My parents needed to have known beforehand…"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Its fine," Al reassured, smiling once again. "I'll walk you out the door."

"Thanks," I said, standing up. I smoothed out the wrinkles on my clothes, and stretched my arms.

Al absentmindedly took my hand in his, and we both walked down the stairs.

As we were about to reach the front door, I heard Al's mum's voice say, "Al? Did you get anything done?"

"How does she do that?" Al muttered to himself, and I stifled a laugh. "Uh, no, not really. We just talked about stuff."

Her answer didn't come immediately. "Well, why don't you invite… er... Hansika for dinner?"

"I already did," Al told her, "and she said she can't."

After answering, he guided me to the door, and opened it for me. I went back into the outside, and he closed the door behind him.

Al smiled _another_ smile at me—he has really got to stop doing that, they made my heart do flips—and hugged me.

I let out a noise of surprise, but found my wits quickly and I wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

He let go of me, and told me, "You should come around again, it was nice having you here."

"It was nice being with you," I replied.

And we stood there, observing each other. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but it was weird, for me at least.

"Anyways, goodbye," I said out in a rush, hugging him again briefly, and spun on my feet. I ran back home, and entered in quickly before any bugs came in.

"Home sweet home," I muttered to myself, and holed myself up in my room, wanting to wash this strange day away with some light reading.

* * *

 **This chapter was longer than I thought it would be. I thought it would end at the three thousand word mark. Cheers to myself, right? Also, this took a** ** _way_** **different turn than I had anticipated. For one, even** ** _I_** **didn't predict the Hansika/Al spin. Now,** ** _that_** **was a wild ride. I don't think there are any pop culture references in this chapter that I** **have to credit? Nah, I don't think so.**


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